One Drunken Night
by Bunnylass
Summary: Suze POV. It's as the title suggest. Just a bit of fun with total randomness and Jesse adorableness thrown in for kicks! Enjoy! R


_**Disclaimer: **_The proper disclaimer is down the bottom. But, the Mediator belongs to Meg Cabot.

_**Rating: **_T

_**Summary: **_Suze POV. It's as the title suggest. Total randomness and Jesse adorableness thrown in for fun!

_**A/N: **_This is a cocktail of wanting to write something, odd-ish, with a touch of drunken ideas and full on exhaustion from said drunken night. But I'd love to know what you think. Just roll with it. ^^

* * *

_**One Drunken Night...**_

Here's a question for you all to wonder over. What's the worst part about a pool party? I know you're all probably going - What's Suze rabbiting on about now?! And hey, I know it's weird and unusual, but this is me; the girl who invented weird and unusual. So just roll with it, okay? Good. Besides, I'm being serious. Or as serious as someone that communicates with the dead on a fairly regular basis _can_ be anyway. Because there is a right answer to it you know. And I don't mean having one of the popular girls scowling at you and whispering behind your back. Or catching your step-brother in a clinch with an airhead and falling into poison oak you're so sickened by the sight.

No, I'm talking about the stuff that annoys the crap out of you. Like having poison oak wouldn't, but that was the first time I went to a pool party. I'm allowed leeway for that, I was still learning. But let me give you some examples. One - the boys that have had way too much to drink trying to come on to me even though their either _not_ really half cut. Or so far gone they end up puking on my Jimmy-Choo's. Two - the drunken boys that stink of chlorine _and _beer trying to come on to me. Three - getting shoved in the pool myself and looking like a drowned rat.

Now if you know me, you know I don't take lightly to getting pushed into the _cold_ and horrible stuff. So I do what I always do, I start kicking butt.

It would've worked out fine and true to how I had it all planned out in my head but for _one_ minor problem that wasn't quite so minor and fun the next day. I was going to gracefully rise from the cold water, the sparkling excess drops flying off me and catching in the moonlight making every hot guy at the party automatically turn, look and fall in love with me. Secretly wishing it was a hot Latino _man _standing there instead of all the boys. Then I was going to slip off my heels so I didn't slip and slide everywhere and march up to the douchbag that pushed me in the juice and land a solid, loud satisfying punch to his nose. Making everyone cheer and know never to push me into the pool again.

But did it go that way? Hell no! Want to know _why_? Because of that minor problem that wasn't quite so minor.

I just so happened to be too drunk to do _any_ of those things.

There was no graceful rising from the water up the stone steps at all. No, there was stumbling up them causing a bruised and sore knee. There was no flying sparkling water, because I was soaked to the skin and the water seemed to like just dragging my dress down and make my hair stick to my skin. Slicked across my face and in my eyes causing my already blurry sight to be even worse. I didn't waltz up to the culprit and fulfil my revenge. I did fall on him though. And say something along the lines of -

"Wha da frick ou ought ou doin'! Do ou ow who I'm am?!"

I got my fist all clenched and everything! But it didn't go far. Because of another detail I forgot to mention. I didn't get as far as taking off my heels; down Suze went. No, I was too busy wanting to humiliate the guy to do something as sensible as that. But just ended up making no sense what so ever and the guy didn't even know who I was. I found out the next day it wasn't even _him_ that did it. Add another tick to the embarrassments that come with being a drunken idiot. A couple of people say it was Brad. If it was, then I'm going to be calling in some ghostly favors. Because my knee and my ego were not taking kindly to having Brad one nil up in our sibling rivalry.

But this brings me back to my original question - What is the worst thing about a pool party?

Getting drunk. _That_, is the right answer.

It wasn't peer pressure that made me drink, because I'm the first one to tell the person trying to pull that one on me to get lost. And it definitely weren't spiked drinks because I think I would've noticed something that obvious. But there were comments like - '_You're young, Suze_!' And - '_You only live once_.' And that was the deciding factor that made me pick up the cup. They were right. I'm so busy wasting my teenage life sorting out the deceased; I'm missing out on the finer things. Like, my first time getting drunk at a party. First and last that is. So one drink led to another and another and another and, well, you get the general idea. But seriously, the _getting_ drunk part isn't even the worst of it! Shocking I know!

So here's a story of what was. You might think it's funny, you might not. But read it and find out...

xXx

"Suze!" Adam hissed from behind me, his voice seeming to come from far, far, far away. I blinked past the haze and slowly turned to look at him after he called me again. That was a stupid move though. The world spun and every drop of alcohol I'd poured down my throat threatened to suddenly come rushing back up. "Suze?" Adam asked again, coming towards me looking worried. I clapped a hand over my mouth like that would help it and waited for the nausea to pass. It did. _Eventually_. "Geez Suze, you look rough!" My friend complimented me.

I dropped my hand and grinned stupidly. "Thanks, babe, you look great yourself," I said, reaching out to sloppily pat him on the cheek. And his worried expression dropped away and he rolled his eyes. "Have you been learning that roll eye thing from Jesse?" I asked, swaying where I stood, a distant aching throbbing coming from somewhere near my feet, but I was too tired to work out where and why. "'Cos you know Jesse has the whole roll eye thing down pat. He does it better then I do!" I rambled on, throwing my hand around carelessly, my bag flying from it and landing somewhere near Adam's car.

"Oops." I slurred, shrugging.

"Wait here, I'll get it," He quickly said, walking to his car, feeling around for my bag and coming back to me with it. "Here, try not to lose it, okay?" He said, wrapping my fingers around it. I nodded numbly, closing my eyes. It was a few seconds before I got them back open. "Remind me never to get you another drink no matter how sweetly you ask for it." He mumbled to himself, leading me over to the porch steps.

But I was soon shrugging him off. "I can do it!" I protested, pushing on his chest to give me some space. "Ahh, don't look at me in that tone of voice," I said giggling, backing up until the backs of my ankles hit the wooden step. Adam whipped his arm out like he was going to catch me, but I shoved it away. I'm an independent woman. I can do these things on my own! I don't need no help. "Now be a good little Adam and take Cee home. Thanks." And I turned to the steps looking up at them. They looked a lot higher then the last time I looked. "This could take a while." I mumbled to myself.

"Suze just let me help you to the - "

"No! I'm fine! Run along now." I waved off, dropping to my hands and knees, preparing to crawl up the mountain.

I was about half-way and inspecting the little bug crawling across it when I heard Adam's voice call out to me curiously. I bit back my annoyance at getting interrupted of my watching the - I think it was a spider - crawl away from me. Instead, I collapsed against the steps and turned to look at him where he was so obediently watching me. And probably getting a nice view up my skirt at the same time, like I really cared. I'm pretty sure he likes Cee deep down, I got nothing to worry about, I told myself.

"Suze, who's Jesse?" He asked, resting against the railing.

"Huh?" I intelligently asked, blinking past the exhaustion. The steps actually really comfortable.

"Jesse. You mentioned him before, who is he?" He pressed; his face in shadow.

"Mom, Jesse. Who is Jesse?" I said to myself, pulling up an explanation, a light dawning somewhere in my slow brain. "Jesse's my imaginary friend that lives in my room with me, babe. He saves my life a lot too. He's pretty cool and has this killer six-pack. Glossy black hair I could run my hands through for hours. And he's Spanish! Did I mention that?" I rambled, getting more alert the more I went on. But when I saw Adam's face and the way he was trying not to laugh, I shut up and frowned. Or tried too anyway. "What?"

"Nothing," He laughed lightly, shaking his head and stepping away from the railing, backing up to his car. "Nothing at all Suze. Say hi to him for me, 'kay? I'll see you Monday. Night!" He called quietly, turning around to walk properly. The slam of his car door sounded like thunder right above me and I winced, wishing the numb daze would come back where everything comes to me in slow motion and stuff. But in the end I just shrugged it off and carried on crawling.

I got to the top of the steps at last, tripping over the welcome mat and flying into the door with a thump and a wince. "Stupid door! Who put that there?" I grumbled, digging through my purse for my key. My fingers touched something cold, metal and hard so I pulled it out heading for the keyhole. It took me a couple of minutes to realize the door weren't opening because a bottle cap doesn't unlock it. "For cryin' out loud!" I stomped, a rush of pain shooting up my leg from my foot hitting the porch.

"Where's Jesse when you need him?" I whispered to myself when I finally got the door open and was standing in the foyer looking down into the dark house.

Of course, my question soon got answered. Just, not in the way I was expecting.

I tilted my head to the side and stared off in to space, trying to pin point where I was hearing scratching, scraping and hissing sounds from. I took a few steps forward, my foot reaching out and feeling around for a step I knew was there somewhere. I found it when I fell down them to a cursing heap in the dark. "What the hell!" I bitched, trying to get back up, my elbow smarting and throbbing. "It's all Jesse's fault!" I pouted, stumbling a couple of steps before I got my balance. I giggled at the feeling of my arms wind milling to keep me upright stopping that little thing called gravity from pulling me down onto my ass with a thump.

And I heard it again. Hissing, scratching and scraping. Only, it sounded like it was getting closer. I raised my head looking in the direction of the living room and the kitchen doorway off to the side of it. Thinking I was seeing wrong, I narrowed my eyes and raised a hand to my head, ruffling my mussed hair and watching a fat orange_ thing_ run out of the kitchen and through the living room, jumping and running across the sofa, chairs and table. Hissing, spitting and scratching everything it could.

I raised an eyebrow when I saw a bigger _thing_ running after the first one, following the same path the first thing did only making more annoying head-ache worthy noises across the couch, the table and anywhere else the orange one had gone. The growling was so deep I thought it was a hell-hound! And then, I saw a running, glowing tall fine and amazing ghost chasing the orange fluff ball and dark hell-hound, his arms outstretched like a little kid chasing an ice-cream truck. But there was no growling, hissing and spitting from him. Just this -

"**Mr Scrumpy**, **Orange Mousey**, _ssssttttoooppp_!!!" Jesse cried out, a look of desperation flashing across his gorgeous face.

"Huh?" I finally managed after a couple of minutes of watching them all chase each other around the living room and in and out of the kitchen. "Mr _what_?" I muttered; my headache suddenly growing worse. But then I looked back to the confusing show and suddenly widened my eyes. "Oh no. Oh shit!" I cringed, stumbling backwards but it was too late. Mr Scrumpy and Orange Mousey were running around me. And before I knew it, Mr Scrumpy was tired of having to go around me. So decided to go _through _me.

And I went down. Hard and fast.

I had enough sense to feel a blast of pain shoot through my head and down my back before the dark welcoming inky blackness came in from the edges of my vision and took away the pain and finally let me get some sleep. I let it take over and dropped into lala land.

xXx

"Ugh," I groaned weakly coming back to consciousness slowly and very, very painfully. "Oh my _God_, someone turn off that damn _drill_!" I cringed, not even opening my eyes but pulling the covers up and over my head hoping that would dull the noise in my head, but it didn't. It was _worse_! And then everything else hit me at once. My elbow was throbbing, my back felt like I'd been kicked a dozen times. My knee made me wince when I bent my leg. And my feet. My feet were _bad_! Like, _really_ bad.

I gripped the covers tight and tried not to cry out from the aching pain of it all. Instead, I just lowered them very slowly, cracking my eyes open into slits, feeling the gritty stickiness of my make-up I didn't take off before I went to bed. The movement made the smell hit me next. The strong odour of chlorine. "What the hell?" I croaked; my throat like sand paper and my lips cracked and dry. I reached down for my clothes, feeling the stale, hardness in my palms. I opened my eyes a little more and leaned up on my non-hurting elbow, looking down at my clothes. "Why am I still in my dress?"

"Because I wasn't going to change you out of it," Jesse piped up from the window seat making me squeak and then cringe at what it did to my ears. When I opened my eyes again, the throbbing; boom, boom, boom of my headache dulling a tiny bit, I scowled at his care-free expression. "I don't know why you're looking at me like that, Susannah. You are the one that was extremely inebriated last night." He said in his smug liquid cool voice that was going a little ways to making me feel better.

At least it would, if my ego wasn't hurting the most.

"I was what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes from the sunlight. I fumbled around for my sunglasses on my bedside table and slipped them on while Jesse repeated the long obnoxious word with relish. "Look, can you speak English please? If you hadn't noticed, I'm feeling a little delicate right now. I don't have the brain power to work out what you're trying to say. And it hurts just to think about it. So help me out here will you?! I never did anything to you." I carried on, rubbing my aching head.

"You don't have the brain power because you just killed off a lot of brain cells from your high intake of alcohol," He said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, giving me a peek at his hard chest. I waved off his guilt-trip spiel and rolled my eyes. God, even _that_ hurt to do! "Your condition is self-inflicted; I have no sympathy for you."

"Oh geez, thanks. That's nice to know. I decided to be a proper normal teenager for the night, doing what I'm supposed to do, trying these new experiences, and you're bitching at me for it. Will I ever cut a break with you?" I grouched, shifting beneath my covers my knee twinging again. "Dammit, why does my knee hurt?!" I asked, tossing aside my covers and slowly swinging my legs around from the bed. When I looked down I saw an ugly purple bruise with an impressive looking gash. "Great, that's just what I need in skirt season." I sighed, staring down at my sore elbow and seeing the red, raw carpet burn there. "How did I get these?"

"You most likely got them from falling down the steps into your living room last night," Jesse said from where he was leaning back against the wall, his booted foot up on the cushion, his arm dangling off his knee. "That's where I found you. I think you knocked yourself out because I couldn't wake you. So I carried you up here so your parents wouldn't find you in such a . . . _state_. You can thank me later when you're feeling better." He grinned, lifting his dog-bite scarred eyebrow almost mockingly. Oh he can fight dirty when he wants.

I wouldn't have been surprised if that was what happened. I couldn't remember anything. But there was still something bugging me about what he said. Something that seemed out of place.

I lifted my head and looked at him. "Who are _Mr Scrumpy _and _Orange Mousey_?" I said, watching his face freeze and the humor drop from his eyes.

He swallowed before relaxing again, becoming aloof. "I don't know what you're talking about, Susannah," He said, looking out of the window once before he turned back to me. "You must have been dreaming. You did hit your head hard," He continued, shrugging it off and getting the amusement back in his expression. Why does he get so much entertainment from watching me suffer?! It's so unfair.

"I've never heard those names before." He continued.

"You sure?" I bugged, because I couldn't shake them lose. "I could've sworn you called Max and Spike that last night," I trailed off, realizing how dumb it sounded as I said it. "Ugh, maybe I did dream it then." I sighed, lifting my legs back onto my bed and falling back down to my pillows. The instant rush of thrum, thrum, thrum in my ears from the blood rushing in my head and fuelling my headache to the massive power of a migraine made me squeeze my eyes shut and wait for it to pass.

Which brings me up to date with my story. My quirky, weird and completely ridiculous tale.

I mean think about it, can you ever imagine Jesse chasing Max who was chasing Spike through my house in the middle of the night calling them _Mr Scrumpy_ and _Orange Mousey_? Yeah, neither can I. And I' put that nagging feeling down to the headache. There wasn't any room for anything else inside my head anyway. So I nursed my ego and tried to ignore what embarrassments I probably got up to at the party, ignoring Jesse's smirks like he knew something I didn't, while he sat on the window seat. And then Brad, who apparently doesn't suffer from hang-over's, decided some heavy, beating, _loud_ music was needed to kick-start Sunday. And I groaned.

"I'm never drinking again!"

And I'm sticking to it!

* * *

_**A/N 2: **_This probably is out of character. But most teenagers get drunk at least once before the legal age limit, so I'm running with it. :) Suze wants a normal life, she got it, lol. Anyway, I hope you like it. I didn't think about it, I just wrote. ^^ Peace, hugs and love y'all!

_**Disclaimer continued:**_ Mr Scrumpy and Orange Mousey's names were borrowed from a funny T.V. advert. They're not mine. :)


End file.
